


Coffee, Tea, or Me

by karrenia_rune



Category: Alice In Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
Genre: Beverages, Gen, promptfic comm:50scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:12:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The March Hare considers his something of an expert when it comes to fine beverages, but recalling his encounters with a little girl named Alice is rather more problematic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee, Tea, or Me

Title: Coffee, Tea, or Me  
Fandom: Alice in Wonderland, general book series  
Author: karrenia  
Character: The March Hare, POV  
Words: 385  
Rating: general audiences  
Prompt: #39 sugar, Table 1  
28/50

Disclaimer: Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass and its characters were the original creation of Lewis Carroll and now belong to whomever owns his estate; unless they have now entered public domain. In any case, they are not mine; I claim only the words.

 

"Coffee, Tea, or Me" by karrenia

One would think, and I am one as should know, that after all this time I should consider myself a an admitted expert provider of fine beverages. Do I flatter myself if I toot my own horn?” On the heels of that last thought, the March Hare lifted a forepaw until it was nearly lying flush with his furry hide and uttered “Toot! Toot!”

Then he darted quick glances around in all directions,and finally, with a slightly flustered grin on his whiskery face, he laughed.

As it is said: coffee is coffee, unless, of course, its tea, in which case I would proceed to inquire of my guests if they preferred one lump or three. Should the need arise,and they asked for no lumps at all, being the gracious host that I am, I would consent but have the sugar bowl near at hand in case they changed their minds.

Speaking of minds, that little girl whose name I can never recall, but the Mad Hatter can; aggravating to say the least, but that is neither here nor there. If I squint my eyes tightly shut and concentrate I can see her face, rather pale complexioned and distinctly lacking in whiskers; although normal for a human girl child. I understand that whiskers are common to adult human males, but I digress.

Her hair had been the color of a freshly mown summer wheat field and when she felt awkward or shy she had a habit of attempting to hide behind said hair. What was that little girl’s name? It’s on the tip of my tongue, as it were.'

The effort to recall is like one of those riddles of which the Door Mouse is so fond of: were one must offer various guesses until at last a solution has been found. Like is it bigger than a bread box? Will it fit inside a thimble? Wait, wait, don’t tell me, I remember.

He paused with a forepaw lifted in front of his face, considering if he should proceed to itch at a spot on his right flank when the elusive name floated out of his memories: “AHA! Alice that was it! Alice".

“She was a tea-drinker, and no mistake!”

The March Hare thought about it some more and shook his head. “You were an odd little duck, Alice. Good luck to you wherever you are.”


End file.
